by Astrid Amara
Ishad sat back down. “We will consider it just retribution for what happened. And we will continue to stand by our King proudly.”
Tarek looked to Yudar. The man seemed on the verge of tears.
“Do you have anything to say, Prince Yudar?”
“It is not Keshan’s fault. It is mine,” Yudar said quietly. “Punish me, Tarek.”
But, as much as it would have pleased Tarek to do so, he had no legal grounds. “You fulfilled the terms of the exile,” Tarek said. “Keshan did not.” Tarek turned to the man in question. “Keshan?”
Keshan was now quite pale, but he smiled. “Yes, Judge?”
“Do you understand what this means?”
Keshan nodded.
“And do you acknowledge your guilt?”
Keshan’s stare pierced through Tarek. “I would do it again if I had to.”
“Look what you have done now!” Baram growled at Yudar. “You have ruined two lives!” Yudar flinched.
Tarek stood, his knees cracking with fatigue. “We will reconvene in the courtyard in one hour.” He hesitated, but then turned to Indarel. “Bring a branding iron.”
“Yes, Royal Judge,” Indarel bowed low.
Tarek took three steps towards the exit, then turned back and signaled to Anant. “Come with me, commander.”
Anant inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”
The two of them made their way through the reception hall and out into the palace’s courtyard. Afadi servants had set up a room for him in the guest quarters of the palace. Tarek immediately excused them, and then shut the door so that he was alone with Anant.
Anant relaxed, his broad shoulders loosening as soon as they were alone. He put his helmet down on a desk. “My lord?”
Tarek looked at him. What kind of person was Anant? He knew what Darvad would do in this circumstance. Despite being friends and allies, Darvad would have Keshan branded in a heartbeat. Darvad’s hatred of the Parans made all other interests, even those of reform, those of friendship, secondary.
“I don’t want to do this,” Tarek said.
“No one wants to see their friends outcaste,” Anant said.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
“If you’d like to tell me, my lord.” Anant appeared worried.
Tarek ran his hand through his hair. He leaned forward to whisper. “Keshan Adaru and Jandu Paran are lovers.”
Anant’s eyes widened as he understood the implications. “Are they? Then Adaru really was defending his wife, so to speak.”
“And now I am to punish a good man for defending his lover,” Tarek said. “I want to tell Keshan to run.”
“What would happen if you did that?”
It was an interesting question. “Chandamar would likely attack Afadi, and declare Darvad unfit as King. Darvad would be angry, possibly relieving me of my position. He would pursue Keshan. And the Parans would still represent a threat to Darvad’s rule.”
”Would Lord Keshan run if you told him to?”
“I don’t know,” Tarek said. “But I would let him if he did.”
Anant moved closer. He smelled warm and salty, like sunburned skin. He touched Tarek’s shoulder. “I think you should listen to your heart. What you do today will ruin a friend of yours. Stripping his caste can only be reversed by a king, and it sounds as though King Darvad will not do so.”
Tarek turned from Anant. “You think I have a heart. But I don’t. I’m going to do it. I promised Darvad I would serve him, and this is what he would want me to do.”
“What has he done to deserve such unwavering loyalty?” Anant asked.
Tarek whirled on Anant. He was out of line.
But then Tarek realized it wasn’t an unreasonable question. Tarek looked at Anant, and saw that he was a better person. Better than Darvad. Better than Tarek himself. Anant lived true to his own conscience, was not ashamed of who he was, or afraid of his own feelings.
Tarek shook his head. “I’m not like you. I took a vow. Even if my actions go against my conscience, I must stand by Darvad.”
“Regardless of the cost to your soul?” Anant asked.
“Yes.” Tarek sighed shakily. “I’m sorry. But I’m a horrible person.”
Tarek expected Anant to look disgusted, or walk out, or reject him. He should have. Tarek deserved no sympathy. He was a man who was about to destroy his friend to follow the unkind desires of his liege.
Anant approached hesitantly. He wrapped his arms around Tarek, his breastplate rubbing against Tarek’s.
“What are you thinking?” Tarek asked, awed that Anant would show affection, even after everything Tarek had done.
Anant smiled. “Honestly? I’m simply grateful that you admit to having a soul, after all.”
Tarek laughed. He kissed Anant deeply, feeling the trust, the affection, radiate off of the young soldier.
This wasn’t love, he reminded himself. This was nothing like what he felt for Darvad. But for now, as he made the decision to once again go against his own wishes to help Darvad, it was enough.
◆◆◆
As the afternoon sun lowered, long shadows stretched across the sandstone of the Afadi palace courtyard. Hundreds of people filled the space, forming a circle around the ceremonial fire. All of Indarel’s advisors, commanders, and Triya vassals were there, as well as the Chandamar party, and Tarek’s own soldiers and ministers. The soldiers of lesser castes watched the ceremony from the outside of the circle, looking on as Indarel’s priests ladled butter into the fire and chanted prayers to God.
Indarel approached, holding a long branding iron in the shape of an X. The brand was immediately placed into the fire. The crowd gathered closer, pulling in from the long shadows to watch this unprecedented scene.
Keshan grew very quiet as the preparations began. He kept his distance from everyone, only smiling once when Baram came over and hugged him brusquely. Tarek again prayed that Keshan would just run away, call on some Yashva magic to transport himself to safety and spare Tarek’s already battered conscience. But as the brand heated in the flames, and the priests’ invocations ceased, Tarek realized his prayers would go unanswered.
Tarek called the Triya caste members together, and recited the passage from the Book of Taivo on the virtue of oaths and the honor of the Triya. After declaring Keshan’s sins, Tarek summoned him forward.
All Tarek could read from Keshan’s expression was resolve. He walked into the ceremonial circle and approached Tarek dutifully.
“Having broken a sacred vow, you are to be formally expelled from the caste of your birth.” Tarek’s voice was low and carried across the hushed courtyard. Tarek nodded to two servants, who carried a large teak table to the fireside. “Place your hands on the surface,” he ordered.
Keshan put his hands on the table, palms down, fingers splayed.
“No!” Baram bellowed, watching and weeping from the side.
Keshan glanced to Baram and gave him a brief, pale-lipped smile. Two Afadi soldiers held Keshan’s arms in place.
Tarek removed the iron from the fire. He hesitated for a moment, the heat of the brand overpowering, even at a distance. There was a flicker of fright in Keshan’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Tarek whispered. He lifted the long handle of the brand and pushed down with force against the back of Keshan’s right hand.
Keshan’s arm jerked in the soldier’s grasp as he reflexively tried to pull away. He groaned and seemed about to collapse, but the soldiers held him up by his arms. Tarek pressed the iron against Keshan’s skin for what seemed to be an age, making sure it burnt clean. He handed the brand to a servant, who returned it to the fire for the second strike. The smell of burning flesh sickened Tarek.
When the brand glowed yellow, Tarek raised it again and branded Keshan’s left hand with the same mark. After he lifted the iron away, the two soldiers released Keshan and he swayed as if he would fall. But he didn’t. His lips and fingernails looked bluish, and he breathed shallowly.
“He is casteless, and disgraced,” answered the men around him. The Triya nearby reached forward and ripped Keshan’s fine clothing from him. Ishad pushed his way forward, grinning malevolently as he violently jerked the jewels from Keshan’s arms. Within seconds Keshan stood naked before them all, trying to cover his genitals with his injured hands.
All the Triya ceremonially turned their backs to Keshan. Tarek did so as well. In the subsequent silence, he heard the sound of Keshan’s bare feet padding across the courtyard, and out of the palace, where he would never be welcomed again.
Chapter 43
THE SUN HAD NEARLY SET WHEN JANDU AND ABIYAR REACHEDLord Indarel’s palace. Despite the late hour, a vast number of noblemen congregated in the courtyard. Jandu quickly dismounted and pushed through the crowds of courtiers. A large fire in the center of the courtyard filled the air with buttery smoke, which wafted over the fading daylight in dark spirals. Tarek Amia stood nearby, looking at his feet.
“Chandamar just attacked Afadi!” Abiyar yelled, rushing toward his father. “Chandamar attacked the summer retreat! They have attacked!” Jandu quickened his pace, protecting Abiyar as they cut through the throng of startled Triya nobles and ministers.
Lord Indarel turned towards them. “What are you talking about, boy?”
Abiyar was out of breath, and in his excitement, his voice raised pitch. “Cavalry charged the summer retreat! We had no defense!”
Indarel immediately paled. “My God. My God!” He reeled on a young man dressed in Triya garb. “You son of a bitch!”
Jandu studied the young man’s face. From his resemblance to Firdaus, he had to be Ishad, Firdaus’ son. A slick coil of loathing crept up Jandu’s throat.
“Jandu Paran saved us!” Abiyar cried out. “He killed fifty men single-handedly! He saved us, father!”
Indarel spun back to stare at Jandu.
Jandu straightened. “Not single-handedly,” he said. “Abiyar fought bravely beside me. The victory is as much his as it is mine.”
“Jandu!” Jandu was immediately crushed in one of Baram’s massive hugs.
“Let go!” Jandu gasped. His nose felt like it was breaking again.
“I will not let go! I love you!” Baram cried out. Those around them stared openly.
“You’re making a scene!” Jandu whispered.
“I don’t care!” Baram proclaimed, not whispering.
“You’re… crushing… me!” Jandu cried.
Baram let go of him immediately. He put his hands around Jandu’s face.
Baram looked like he had been crying all week. His eyes were red and swollen. “If Keshan hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have just killed those fuckers. I would have tortured them first.”
Jandu searched the crowd. “Where’s Yudar?”
“Over by the fire. He looks bad. I beat the shit out of him.”
Jandu touched Baram’s shoulder.
“This is an outrage!” Indarel turned back to Ishad. “You call for a mediator, and attack us while we are negotiating a peace?”
Tarek stepped between the two men. He looked ready to murder Ishad as well. “You mean to tell me that after what I’ve just done, you have been duplicitous?”
“We have the right to defend our state,” Ishad declared, squaring with Tarek. “And what you did is the King’s will, not just ours. Keshan got what he deserved.”
Jandu grew deaf to the sounds around him. He could feel his heart exploding in his chest.
“Keshan?” Jandu turned from Baram. “What did Ishad mean—he got what he deserved?”
The deep shadows of twilight made hollows of Baram’s eyes.
“He’s gone,” Baram said, grabbing Jandu’s arm. “He’s outcaste, Jandu. He just left the palace grounds.”
Jandu shook off Baram’s arm.
“No!” He barged into the circle beside the fire and shoved Tarek. “What did you do, you bastard? What did you do!”
Tarek’s expression was drawn. “I’m sorry, Jandu. I had no choice.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to find a new husband to defend you, Janali,” Ishad sneered.
“You motherfucker!” Jandu lunged at Firdaus’ son.
Jandu felt Tarek grasp him, pulling him backwards, and panic surged through him. He elbowed Tarek with all of his strength. Tarek gasped, releasing his grip. Jandu broke free, drew his sword and charged Firdaus’ son.
Guards closed ranks around Ishad and the movement caused the entire crowd to cry out in fear. Baram caught Jandu brusquely and knocked his sword from his hands.
“No, Jandu! Stop it!” Baram shouted in his ear. “Don’t!”
Jandu struggled out of his brother’s grasp.
“Calm down! Everyone just calm down!” Indarel cried, raising his hands up, urging the soldiers back from each other. “Please, Prince Jandu! Calm down!”
Jandu could barely hear him, the blood pumped so loudly in his ears.
Indarel suddenly bowed before him. “Please! I beg your forgiveness, Lord Jandu, and give you my utmost gratitude and respect for saving our city from treachery!” Indarel had tears in his eyes.
Yudar stepped forward. Jandu could see evidence of Baram’s fist all over his eldest brother’s face. It brought no tinge of sympathy, however. Just looking at Yudar made Jandu flex against Baram’s hold, desperate once more for his sword.
“Royal Judge, we have fulfilled the terms of our exile honorably and truthfully. Now that my brother is with us, I demand that you escort us to Prasta.” Yudar spoke proudly. His glance flicked to Jandu, his eyes begging forgiveness.
“Let go of me!” Jandu hissed. He broke free of Baram’s arms and picked up his sword. Everyone watched him.
“I will escort you to Prasta,” Tarek said, coughing as he recovered from Jandu’s strike. He looked to Jandu. “This can be resolved with the King.”
Jandu stared at the men around him. Greedy, maneuvering, cowardly bastards, one and all. He sheathed his sword and pushed his way out of the crowded courtyard to find Keshan.
Long shadows filled the open streets. Jandu squinted in the darkness for some sign of Keshan. He had no idea where the untouchables of Afadi even resided.
A few blocks from the palace gates, hiding within the darkness of an alleyway, Jandu saw a group of them, their clothes in tattered, filthy rags. As Jandu approached they backed away, leaving Keshan standing there, half-naked, trying to tie on a blood-stained dejaru that one of the other outcastes must have given him.
“Keshan!” Jandu rushed to him. The Jegora lingered deep in the shadows, watching. Jandu didn’t care. He reached out to embrace Keshan but Keshan took a very deliberate step back into the alley.
“Don’t touch me.” Keshan’s voice sounded strained. “I’m Jegora now.”
Jandu closed the distance between them and pulled Keshan into his arms. Keshan let out a sob of relief and clutched Jandu desperately. Jandu could feel tremors through Keshan’s body. His skin felt cold and clammy. He held his hands away from their embrace.
Jandu pulled back and brushed sweaty hair off of Keshan’s forehead. “You’re sick. You need a doctor.”
“No physician will treat me,” Keshan said softly. As he drew back, his dejaru came loose. He caught it with a jerk of his terribly burned hands. The sight of them made Jandu almost sick. He couldn’t imagine how much pain Keshan was in.
“Stop that for a minute.” Jandu carefully placed his palms against Keshan’s and whispered the words of the healing sharta Keshan taught him back in Tamarus’ home. The words flowed through him, the rhythm clear, pushing the sounds out of his mouth to settle like mist over Keshan’s angry wounds. Keshan’s hands ceased to tremble, and though the brands did not completely heal, the red edges of the burns seemed less angry.
Jandu reached down and tied Keshan’s dejaru for him. He grimaced. “This smells.”
Jandu reached to his side and untied his breastplate.
“What are you doing?” Keshan’s voice was weak.
“Giving you my vest,” Jandu told him.
Keshan shook his head. “I can’t take it. If someone sees me wearing silk I will be stoned.”
Jandu paused, looking down at Keshan. What were they going to do now? He retied his armor. He had to come up with a plan.
Keshan moved deeper into the alleyway and sat on an upended urn. Jandu sat beside him, and put his arm around him. Keshan leaned over slowly, and rested his head on Jandu’s shoulder. From the shadows he could feel eyes on him. He wondered what the other Jegora made of this scene.
One by one, the implications of life as a Jegora hit Jandu. Keshan could never return to his beautiful palace in Tiwari. He could never ride a horse again, or wear any of his clothes again, or eat with any family member. He was banned from temples and from courts of law, from all academies and hospitals. The only work he would find would be as someone who cleaned the outhouses and latrines, or dressed the dead bodies, or cleaned up the funeral pyres. From this point forward, his only contact with animals would be disposing of carcasses and skinning dead cows.
“You could go to the Yashva kingdom,” Jandu said, although the idea of being separated knifed through him.
“I can’t. Firdaus locked me out before I killed him.”
Jandu felt vomit rise in his throat at the very mention of Firdaus’ name. Rage filled him, but there was nowhere to vent it and slowly, Jandu let it go. He didn’t need anger now. He needed to help Keshan.
Keshan’s skin was still clammy and pale. Jandu wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly.
“You’re an idiot,” Jandu told him. “The second you realized what they were going to do, you should have kicked their asses.”
Keshan snorted, but he kept his eyes closed. “If the King declares me untouchable, then I will become untouchable. It is inevitable, Jandu.” Keshan swallowed painfully, and licked at his lips.
“Hold on a moment. I’ll be right back.” Jandu left Keshan in the alley and ran towards the gates. He returned a few minutes later with a gourd full of water. He helped Keshan drink from it so he didn’t have to use his hands. Jandu sat down beside him again and Keshan leaned his head against Jandu’s shoulder once more.